Читать книгу My Lord's Desire - Margaret Moore, Paul Hammerness - Страница 10

“SO I DECIDED to use the excuse of an aching head to take my leave of the king,” Adelaide said as she strolled beside Eloise in the garden after breaking the fast the next morning.

The day was warm and sunny, with a light breeze that stirred the leaves of the vines and made the red and white roses nod. In a lovely light blue gown trimmed with delicately embroidered green leaves and with her blue silken veil floating about her face, Eloise looked like the very spirit of summer. Adelaide was more plainly dressed, as befitted her supposed lack of fortune, in a gown of russet wool, with only a simple leather girdle around her waist.

“I also told Sir Oliver I was feeling a little ill this morning when he asked me if I was joining the hunt,” she said.

“I’m so relieved most of the court went,” Eloise replied. “It’s so much more peaceful and quiet when they’re hunting.”

By silent mutual agreement, they went into one of the many little alcoves and sat upon a wooden bench.

“Did you speak to Randall FitzOsbourne last night?” Adelaide asked.

Eloise flushed and studied the white rose bushes around them. “No, I didn’t get the chance.”

“Eloise…!”

“I was going to,” her friend protested, clasping her hands in her lap, “but before I could, Lord Armand asked me to join him in a round dance. It would have been rude to say no, and when we finished, Randall was gone.”

Eloise frowned and spoke with uncharacteristic bitterness. “I should have retired when you did. Lord Armand only asked me to dance because Lady Hildegard was marching toward him with a most determined look in her eye. He didn’t want to dance with her so he asked me instead.”

A sudden, silly surge of disappointment pricked Adelaide as she wondered if that was really true. She didn’t doubt that Lord Armand wanted to avoid the predatory Hildegard, but she could also believe he had an additional reason for asking Eloise to be his partner. Eloise, however, was so modest and unassuming, she was probably quite blind to a man’s genuine interest.

“Even if Hildegard was bearing down on him like an attacking knight, he didn’t have to ask you to dance,” Adelaide pointed out.

“I wish he hadn’t. He never said a word to me the entire time. And I’m quite sure asking me to dance doesn’t mean he likes me that way. After he danced with me, he asked Jane. The poor thing was so flustered, she forgot the steps and ran into Hildegard, who said something that made her burst into tears. I don’t know what Lord Armand said to Hildegard after that, but I don’t think she’ll be chasing after him again. She’ll have to content herself with Lord Richard, if she can, and I wouldn’t be overly confident of that, either, if I were her. You should have seen the way he looked at you when you left the hall last night.”

Adelaide frowned and said with all sincerity, “I truly hope John doesn’t make me marry Richard. Why, he’ll be more concerned about his boots than he’ll ever be about his wife.”

Eloise started to laugh in agreement, then glanced up at the sun above the nearest tower.

“Oh, saints preserve us, it’s nearly the noon,” she cried, jumping to her feet. “Marguerite should have returned with my clean shifts by now. Pardon me, Adelaide, but I must see if they’re all right. The last time she did the washing, two of them were torn.”

With that, Eloise gathered up her skirts and rushed away toward the garden gate without waiting for Adelaide to say another word.

Adelaide watched her go with a bit of relief. She hated talking about marriage. Such conversations inevitably reminded her of her parents’ unhappy union. Her father had been a harsh, overbearing tyrant who was often in his cups, and her mother had been frail and delicate, too weak to defend herself or her children when he was in a rage. As long as Adelaide could remember, her mother had been sick in body and sick with fear.

She would never forget the shock she’d felt the day she’d dared to come between them. For the first time, she’d seen a grudging admiration in her father’s eyes, and he’d never again laid a hand on her, or her mother and sisters, if she was nearby.

That day she had learned that strength need not be physical, that resolve and boldness could be strengths, too.

She’d also realized that both her parents were weak. If her father had not the law and the dictates of society to bolster his rule, and if her mother had had the determination to stand up to him, their lives might have been very different.

Approaching footsteps interrupted her unhappy thoughts. The gait was uneven, as if the person limped, like Randall FitzOsbourne.

Eloise was so shy, she might never speak to him, even though it was obvious she liked him very much. If Eloise wanted to marry—and she did as eagerly as Adelaide did not—Randall FitzOsburne was better than many a husband would be.

Prepared to do whatever she could to help her friend be happy, Adelaide left the alcove—and discovered Lord Armand de Boisbaston walking down the garden path.

As startled as she, he came to a halt a few feet away. Then he crossed his arms and leaned his weight on his left leg as he stared at her with those brown, gold-flecked eyes.

She blurted the first thing that came to mind. “I thought I heard somebody limp—I thought you were Randall FitzOsbourne.”

“Obviously, I’m not.”

She felt an almost physical pain at his brusque response, although it was no more than she deserved after what she’d said to him yesterday.

She simply couldn’t let him continue to think she was insolent and rude. “I’m sorry if I insulted you yesterday, my lord,” she said. “I was impertinent and I wouldn’t be surprised if you never wanted to speak to me again.”

Lord Armand’s brows rose.

“I doubt I can truly appreciate what you’ve endured. I should have accorded you the respect to which you’re entitled, and I deeply regret what I said.”

His body relaxed and a smile dawned upon his handsome face. She was pleased to see it, even if it sent another unwelcome thrill throbbing through her.

“In light of your apology, my lady,” he said, “I’ll tell you why I haven’t cut my hair.”

He gestured at the nearby bench and although it was rather hidden from the path, she answered his silent request and sat upon it.

He joined her and explained. “I want my appearance to remind the king that things have changed since I went to Normandy, that myself and others paid a heavy price for trying to hold his lands there. I don’t want him to be able to delude himself that everything is as it was before.”

“Now I’m even more sorry for what I said.”

“Dwell no more upon it, my lady,” Lord Armand replied, his answer like a warm blanket on a cold day. “It’s forgotten.”

Then his lips lifted in a devilish little grin and his eyes shone with merriment. “Although the notion of painting my face blue and leaping out at Francis in the dark does have a certain appeal.”

Adelaide had to smile, too. “I’d like to see that myself.”

“I gather, then, you don’t particularly care for Francis?”

She felt as if they were veering onto treacherous ground. “He’s a knight in the king’s household,” she answered carefully.

“That doesn’t mean you have to like him.”

She decided it would be better not to talk about the other men of the court. “I hope the kitten’s scratch is healing, and you suffered no lasting effects?”

“No. And you?” he asked.

“A few small scratches—nothing of consequence.” She slid a glance his way. “You left the stable rather abruptly.”

His discomfort at her observation was obvious. For a moment, she wished she hadn’t mentioned it, until he gave her a wry little grin and said, “I was embarrassed by the scars on my wrist. I’m as proud as any man, my lady, and some consider surrendering cowardice.”

“I don’t,” she truthfully replied. “What good would it do to have a knight like you dead?”

The look that came to his eyes made her heartbeat quicken, and her whole body pulse with something that could only be lust. Many men had said ridiculous things to amuse or flatter her, and to arouse this sort of sensation, she didn’t doubt. None of them ever had, yet Lord Armand had done so without a single word.

Again, a warning sounded in her mind. This time, though, it had little to do with her future, and everything to do with what she was tempted to do right then and there.

Fortunately, before her wicked impulse could triumph over her rational mind, a door banged open on the far side of the garden, followed by a burst of feminine laughter.

“Lord Aaarrr-mand!” Hildegard called out, sounding as if she’d been sharing a cask of wine with someone. “Come out, come out, wherever you are, or you’re going to have to pay a forfeit for abandoning us!”

Lord Armand grimaced. “God’s blood, I thought I’d gotten clean away.”

Adelaide knew exactly how he felt. “Come with me, my lord,” she said, rising and taking his hand in hers. “There’s a little hut at the far corner of the garden where the servants keep their tools. It’s well hidden behind some climbing roses.”

He made no objection, and as they hurried down the path, she noticed that he favored his left leg.

“Here,” she said, a little out of breath as they reached the wooden building. She pulled open the door and ushered him inside. “If they come this way, I’ll tell them I haven’t seen you.”

“You’d lie for me?”

“To Hildegard, I would.”

He was about to close the door when they heard other voices close by. It was the king and his companions, obviously back from the hunt.

“God’s teeth!” Adelaide muttered under her breath. She didn’t want to see them any more than Lord Armand wished to converse with Hildegard.

Without a word, Lord Armand yanked her into the hut and closed the door. The building was hot and stuffy and smelled of damp earth, but that wasn’t why Adelaide found herself breathing rapidly, and she knew it.

Lord Armand was close, much too close, in this dark, confined space. She could hear his breathing and feel the heat from his body as he stood behind her. She could sense his powerful muscles held in check as he, too, tensely waited. She could discern the scent of his warrior’s body, of the soap he used to soften his whiskers before he shaved his jaw clean, of his woollen clothes and leather belt and boots.

The closest she had ever been to a man before was during a meal, when touch was by accident or conscious design—the sort of scheme she consciously and continually thwarted. Indeed, she could imagine all too well what Francis, the king and several other men at court would do if they found themselves in Lord Armand’s place. He, however, continued to stand perfectly still and made no attempt to touch her—which was good, because she didn’t dare leave their hiding place. She couldn’t risk being discovered in this situation by anyone.

She couldn’t move, either, lest she knock over the tools leaning against the wall or hanging from pegs.

Her ears strained to hear anything from outside; all was silence. Perhaps it was safe to go out—

“I wish I could kill them all, each and every one, and Philip most of all,” the king declared, sounding as if he were less than three feet away.

She instinctively shrank back, colliding with Armand. It was like hitting the castle wall, except a stone wall wouldn’t put its hands on your shoulders to steady you.

She squirmed, silently commanding him to let go. Which he did. Thank God.

“He would kill me if he dared, that French fop,” the king continued. “As for Hugh the Brown, he should thank me for taking Isabel off his hands. She’s a spoiled little brat.”

“A very pretty little brat,” Francis replied. “You certainly showed Hugh you were a man to be reckoned with when you stole her away from him. He shouldn’t have tried to make an alliance with her father.”

The king chuckled, sounding a little farther away. “Yes, I got the better of him there, didn’t I?”

“As you will of all those who try to defeat you,” Francis assured him, his voice even more distant.

Adelaide slowly let out her breath, and Armand did the same. She put her hand on the latch, determined to leave, until he covered it with his own.

“Not yet,” he whispered in her ear. “They may turn back.”

She couldn’t disagree, although it was a torment having Armand so close behind her, his hand slowly slipping from hers like a caress.

She never should have led him there. She should have let him take his chances with Hildegard, as she should have taken hers with the king and Francis and whoever else might be with them. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t done so before. Instead, she found herself trapped in this little hut with this handsome, incredibly virile man.

She put her ear to a crack in the door. She could hear nothing. Surely it was safe to leave now. Once again she put her hand on the latch.

Hissing a curse, Armand clapped a strong hand over her mouth. His left arm encircled her waist, pulling her back hard against him. She struggled and twisted but he held her in a viselike grip, his arms as confining as iron bands.

“Shhh,” he whispered, the sound as soft as wind passing through the grass.

“Then it’s decided,” said a man outside the hut, his voice low and from somewhere close by. “Both must die.”

Adelaide stilled.

“First the archbishop, then Marshal,” confirmed another man whose voice she likewise didn’t recognize.

“Why not the earl first?” a third man demanded in a harsh whisper. “He’s the stronger.”

“The archbishop is old. It’ll be easy to make his death look like an accident or illness.”

“When?”

“You don’t need to know. Just be ready to move when the archbishop is dead.”

They heard the sound of foliage being moved, followed by retreating footsteps.

For a moment, Adelaide stood limp in Armand’s grasp, too stunned by what she’d heard to move. Those men, whoever they were, were planning assassination.

Startled into action by that realization, she fought her way free of Armand’s grasp and wrenched open the door. She hurried down the path in the direction she thought the men had gone, determined to find out whose voices they’d heard.

The garden was deserted. There was no sign of anyone—not the men they’d heard, or the king and his party, or Hildegard and the ladies.

Armand ran after her and grabbed her arm. “Where the devil do you think you’re going?”

“We have to find out who they were!”

He stared at her incredulously. “Don’t you know?”

“No,” she snapped in frustration. “They were talking too quietly and it may come as a shock to you, my lord, but I haven’t spoken with every single man, servant, clerk or clergyman who inhabits this castle or travels with the king. And now you’re letting them get away!”

“What would you do if you caught them?” he demanded, his voice low, but firm. “Accuse them of plotting murder? Upon what evidence—a whispered conversation overheard in a garden?”

“While you would let them get away?” she retorted. “God knows I have no love for John, but they’re planning the assassination of the two men most capable of keeping him from destroying England.”

“I’ll go to the king. Forget what you’ve heard.”

“I’m not a child!”

“Nor are you a knight sworn to protect the king,” he replied. “That is my duty, my lady, not yours.”

“I may not be a knight,” Adelaide returned, “but I have no wish to allow men to overthrow the kingdom by murder, especially of those two fine men.”

“No, it’s too dangerous,” Armand persisted. “It’s my duty to protect women, too, not put them in harm’s way. I will not allow you to involve yourself in this.”

“It may have escaped your notice, my lord,” she retorted, getting angrier and more impatient by the moment, “but I’m already involved in this. As for danger, every time I’m away from my chamber, every minute I spend at court, I’m in danger of one sort or another. How easy would you find it, I wonder, to tiptoe around John’s desire or that of other men, seeking never to enflame their lust, yet knowing to reject them outright could be more dangerous than facing a lance charge?”

Armand’s brow contracted as he considered her words, and she was prepared to argue more. Men wanted to believe that without them, women were weak and helpless, and almost useless, too, except to bear children. She did not agree, and she wasn’t going to let him dismiss her.

But instead of arguing, he nodded. “Very well. We’ll both go to the king.”

“We can’t,” she said as another possible explanation for the scheme came to her. “John might be involved.”

Armand looked at her as if she were demented.

That wasn’t going to dissuade her, either. “John hates being told what to do, or listening to advice, even if it’s sound. He heeds the Earl of Pembroke because he knows Marshal would sooner die than be disloyal. He respects the archbishop more than most clergymen, but that isn’t saying much. If those two men are dead, he’ll be free of the two people whose counsel he feels most compelled to heed. In his mind, he might finally be free.”

Armand ran a hand through his long hair and a scowl darkened his features. “God’s blood, I can believe it. Perhaps you’re right and we shouldn’t go to John until we know more about this plot. But in the meantime, I must warn Marshal. Randall has many friends among the clergy. He can send word to the archbishop.”

Adelaide saw a danger in this plan, too. “We should alert Marshal and Hubert, but only if you can do so without arousing suspicion or telling anyone else what we’ve heard. I realize Randall’s your friend and I’m sure he’s a trustworthy fellow, but the fewer who know of the conspiracy, the better. Men who seek to achieve their ends by murder won’t hesitate to kill anyone who threatens their plans.”

She waited for Armand to protest that he knew best.

“Very well. I’ll get word to the archbishop myself.”

Relieved that he wasn’t going to argue, she said, “While I talk to any of the courtiers I don’t know well and try to discover who we heard.”

Again she waited for him to protest, but again he didn’t. “As you’re doing that, I’ll try to find out if anyone’s leaving Ludgershall today. I have some friends among the guards I can ask.”

“Good,” Adelaide replied, pleased and still somewhat surprised that he was so agreeable. “Now we must think of a way to meet and share what we’ve learned.”

Lady Jane came bustling down the path toward them, her head bowed in thought.

Armand de Boisbaston abruptly tugged Adelaide into his arms.

And kissed her.